


Patient #1933

by MuseValentine



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, Murder, Serial Killers, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28299555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuseValentine/pseuds/MuseValentine
Summary: Insanity comes in forms of varying degrees, and hers came in Patient #1933.---Charlastor Trashbin Discord Secret Santa Event! My gift for the lovely Neco~
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 118





	Patient #1933

**Author's Note:**

> All characters from the Hazbin Hotel belong to Vivziepop. I merely live and breathe the show and the Charlastor ship.
> 
> Follow me on Twitter! @MuseVlt

The tall, imposing walls bore witness to unimaginable horrors, ones so grim the punishments of the Devil himself would seem a child’s play in comparison. Cold, harsh lighting shone on the most inhumane acts, casting monstrous shadows on the creaking floor, which felt heavy footsteps of many a man’s final conscious walks. 

Because every single day, week after week, year after year, the ones who dared to still call themselves human tested the extent of their might, tearing the power over minds and sanity from the hands of God. The walls, the lights, the floors, they all drunk in the muffled distress of man’s solemn march to the lobotomy room.

And today was no different. The brick walls, unforgiving, stood in the same place, indifferent to human tragedy; the light still shone, and the floor still creaked, as yet another man marched to the lobotomy room. He was silent. There was no distress filling the air, no muffled cries.

Only the tears glistening on a nurse’s cheeks, the girl running in desperation.

Before it was too late.

* * *

**_Patient #1933._ **

_“You’ll be taking care of this one for a while now. Just be careful, my dear. I heard he bites.”_

Another day, another dangerous case - nothing but a norm down here. All kinds of lunatics - the rapists, the murderers, the deranged: they all, one way or the other, would eventually wound up in the Pentagram Asylum. Or, as it was more commonly known, ‘Hell’. 

For the scum of the city, the most insane of the criminally insane, there was only one way to meet their maker to an untimely end; and the asylum provided it. That, and so, so much more.

But Patient #1933 was not biting.

In fact, he wasn’t doing anything at all.

He was just sitting in a chair by the window, bathing in streamed sunlight brightening up the gentle smile that played on his lips as he greeted her.

“Hello.”

He had a handsome voice to go with a handsome face, but there was just something off about that smile, like it was too fixed and unbudged. But still, it looked kind in his greeting and brought upon her own to return the favour. 

“Hello there,” Charlie replied. “Mister…”

“You can call me ‘Alastor’, darling,” the peculiar man replied with a polite chuckle. She glanced at the folder, and it was indeed there, written in bold, elegant cursive on the cover of the folder. “That is my name, after all.”

The sufferers were more often than not just referred to by their numbers, surnames at most. First names were off-limits - such familiarity was seen as unprofessional in their line of work. More than that - they were a humanising thing, and the patients in the walls of ‘Hell’ were everything _but_ human.

However, the smile of this patient wasn’t monstrous. On the contrary; it was quite human, not threatening in any way. In her eyes, an opportunity arose - it was a chance to get him to warm up to her if she went along with his request. 

“Alright, Alastor. My name’s Charlotte, but I mostly go by ‘Charlie’.”

“Charlie.” He rolled her name on his tongue, rolling it in his mouth, getting a good feel of saying it like a connoisseur would an expensive delicacy. He tasted it, and grinned, clearly satisfied with its sweetness. “I find that it suits you.”

\---

Charlie had taken a look at his case file the other day. She couldn’t say she was surprised to find out what had brought Alastor to ‘Hell’. But it was still a peculiar case, in her opinion.

_““He shanks them apart with even a shard of glass.”_

_“He sinks his teeth into flesh like it’s the most exquisite cut of steaks. “_

_“He collects blood in a wine glass and drinks it like the most expensive cabernet sauvignon.”_

His speech, his behaviour, his manners - all of this tended to make Charlie forget that he was in here for murder. 

It made her wonder what could have driven a man like him to commit such a heinous act. 

“Because it makes me feel good.”

Charlie did not even realise she had said it out loud, but Alastor was already looking thoughtfully at her. 

“What?”

“There’s a high I can’t describe when it happens. It sends my blood rushing so hot, my veins could almost ignite on fire. It disconnects me from everything else except the ever-present sound of my ecstatic heartbeat. It’s like I’ve gone to Heaven, for just a few short moments.”

“That’s just plain insanity, Alastor.”

“Is it really ‘insanity’, if my intellect, my morals, my manners, are still in there, intact? Isn’t this what they call ‘sanity’? In truth, what I do, I find it only gives a depth to the meaning of my life.”

“But this isn’t a way of life…”

“‘Each to their own’, isn’t this the truism we are all being fed to our whole lives? We are all so similar. You might live your life, and I might live mine, following the same basic principle. Who are you to say it is wrong for me to live the way I live? Does an objective morality exist, Charlie?”

“I don’t know, but putting other people in danger and slaughtering the innocent is just wrong!”

“Oh, ho! But are all the lives I take truly innocent? One beats his wife to the verge of death, another swindles the poor out of their last pennies. True, some may have done no wrong, but in the end, it is the same. Everybody sins, everybody wrongs, everybody suffers. It makes no difference how each life is undertaken. It nearly puts me and you as no different as well.”

“How so?” Charlie could not help but ask As eerie as this conversation was, there was something philosophical in the way he enounced his words, like the teachings of a religion promising enlightenment. 

“You seem too innocent for this world you’ve chosen to lend your good helping graces to, my dear. Could that in itself be ‘insanity’ in a way?”

“It is not ‘insanity’ to believe that people can change.”

“But it could be to believe in those that are too far gone to change.”

\---

Insane or not, Alastor was admittedly an intelligent man who knew his manners. 

In what little moments they shared together, she loved the conversations she had with him. His tongue was silver and his voice was golden as it strung melodies enticing her to listen - so witty and clever, so whimsical and imaginative, holding a bite of snark that could truly send those of little patience on their nerves’ edge. 

“I heard you are quite the terror with the doctors.”

“Insufferable idiots, the lot of them," he muttered nonchalantly. "Amazes me that they got through medical school with those half-assed crania of theirs."

He spoke so casually that it would not give away the fact of how he was being routinely ‘examined’ by these ‘insufferable idiots’. How they poked and prodded at him and subjected him to treatments that an average person would liken to torture. 

She chose not to bring it up, knowing it would dour such a conversation he has shaped to be lighthearted. “It seems you have little tolerance to such ‘insufferable idiots’.”

“I aim to make their life a living Hell while I’m here,” Alastor declared haughtily. 

“Then you must like me then.”

“Quite confident and cheeky today, aren’t you?” he chuckled, looking at her pouting face. She tried to remain poised - and in her mind she probably did - but her expressions deceived her way again. How endearingly candid of her.

“Oh, no. Merely stating a fact.”

"Oh?" Alastor pressed curiously, tilting his head.

“If you didn’t, you would have caused me misery too. I might not be a doctor, but I am a part of the staff nonetheless.” She felt bold enough to ask, “How do you kill them, Alastor?” 

Alastor raised a brow. “Darling, such a change of topic.”

“I merely must be prepared, in case I might push your buttons enough to drive you off the edge with my behaviour.”

“I doubt you would,” he said pointedly, and there was something in his tone that indicated a dislike to how she was speaking in such a manner. “But if I were to tell you, your opinion of me would change.”

“I don’t think it would.”

“Really now?”

A hesitant pause. “Alright, probably.”

“As I thought,” he said low in a mutter.

But that did not seem to dissuade her. There was a certain look in her eye that was clearly hope, all soft and warm as she was. In those eyes shone the encouragement she wished to give him, her belief in his capability of becoming a better human than he otherwise was. 

“I’ll still believe in you, Alastor.”

For once, Alastor kept silent. 

\---

“I see you’ve taken quite the liking to Charlotte.”

The spreading of fresh sheets paused as Charlie looked up to where Alastor was seated for his routine assessment by Dr Seviathan Von Eldrich. The young doctor did not miss the way his patient’s eyes darted to where she was, and his lips pulled further into the grimace spoiling his face.

“While I don’t blame you, she certainly is out of your league, so I’d say don’t push your luck.” 

A brow cocked. “Has Miss Charlotte taken to you, Doctor?” Alastor inquired politely. He knew jealousy when he saw it, potent in the rising testosterone that filled the air in a bid of egoistic masculinity. 

There was bitterness in the way Seviathan’s eyes flickered sharply to Charlie, whose gaze had lingered on Alastor a second too long before she looked away. Never before did the doctor look so gentle and kind, as when he watched the young, blonde nurse. He blinked, and when his stare returned to the patient, it was filled with nothing but pure, distilled _hatred_. 

“Alas, it would seem that Charlotte is quite prudish in nature.

The insult was delivered quietly enough for the nurse to not be within earshot to listen in to what more was being told.

“She has this habit of maintaining an oh so unattainable pose, which honestly, she ought not to flatter herself with. Her looks and nature may paint her in a sweet image but that minx truly shamelessly tempts in her facade, flaunting around like some tease. She should be a bit more aware of how she brings herself about, for modesty's sake.”

To say Alastor felt infuriated at how this damned bastard dared to outrage Charlie’s modesty, especially with such a crude choice of words, would be an understatement. He couldn’t let the insolence of this manchild pass without a scolding. A beating would be more suitable, but he was without a twig on hand.

Oh well. Desperate times call for unorthodox methods, and Alastor was nothing if not a _very_ creative man.

“Now, is there anything particularly wrong with you this fine morning?” The good doctor asked routinely, without even the tiniest bit of interest shining through his mundane voice.

“Doctor, I’m afraid that my tooth is aching.”

“I’m not a damned dentist,” Seviathan said sharply in irritation, but nonetheless gestured for him to bring his face closer so that he could take a look. Alastor did as instructed, telling him where it hurt before parting his lips.

Then, there was screaming.

The sort of screaming that’s torn out from the mouth, like a terrified soul that’s seen the fiery infernos of Hell itself and could not fathom its indescribable horrors. And what such horror it truly was for Charlie to witness Dr Von Eldrich screaming in anguish as he cradled a hand that was now a twisted, grisly glob. Blood was oozing from it, a waterfall of bright scarlet and cruor flooding the white tiles. 

That finger dangled off Alastor’s lips like a cigarette as he chuckled at the pathetic sight of the man rolling in pain. Oh, poor orderlies! He has made quite a bit of mess for them to clean up. How very ungentlemanly of him!

The patient took the mauled fag in his two fingers, and puffed as if he was indeed smoking nonchalantly. The deplorable excuse of a man was squirming beneath him in an unimaginable, agonizing pain, which for Alastor felt like the greatest, purest _pleasure_. He glanced down at the worthless form of so-called ‘physician’ with abhorrence. Disgusted, he spat. “Don’t ever talk to Charlie in such a way, Dr Von Eldrich.”

\---

They’ve deemed him incurable.

Of course, they would. What other diagnosis was there for a man who had ripped someone’s finger off with nothing more than their own teeth? How were they supposed to cure such a man?

It was an easy diagnosis. One which did not require any input from them, any sort of strain. She also knew that, if he did the same atrocious thing to a patient rather than to the esteemed Dr Von Eldrich, they wouldn’t care.

And that made Charlie so much angrier.

“You bastard.”

She threw the tray of food down onto the floor, uncaring that the gruel was staining and soaking into the cloth of her shoes as she eyed through the small barred window into the desolate room.

There he was in the middle of the room, all wrapped up in a tight straightjacket with a muzzle fixed to his mouth. Those teeth were dangerous now and they had certainly taken the measures to prevent another attack. But the sight of Alastor restrained was heartbreaking to her. Despite everything, he was not a violent man by nature. He only did what he did to protect her. How could they treat him like an animal, when he was more human than they were?

“Come here, you rotten fool. I want to take that off of you. I want to hear you speak.”

There was a glint in his eyes. Being commanded was just so amusing to him. Quite belittling, especially to his current position of being trapped like some caged animal, but amusing nonetheless. He heeded her demand gladly, although not without any issues; his arms were wrapped tightly, and he couldn’t use them for balance. Somehow, he managed to stand, although nowhere near straight. He trudged to the window.

The straps were a challenge to undo through the small spaces between the metal bars, but they came loose enough to fall to his neck. A sharp inhale of breath resounded through the quiet room, before a raspy voice. 

“He had it coming.”

If the metal bars were not there, she would not have hesitated to reach out to give him a good smack as he deserved. “Stop that! How can you be so casual about all of this?! Have you heard what they’re planning to do to you?!” 

“Yes.”

“Then?”

“‘Then’ what? What else can be done?” Alastor questioned grimly. “Death will come for payment of my dues. It is inevitable. There’s nothing that can be done.”

Tightened fists were slammed against the door. The anger from Charlie’s eyes showed the fear within, desperate to fight for a chance for him. Alastor could see her very soul drowning in the tears that she wept for him, a plea for hope to appear within a hopeless place. 

“You can’t think like this! You can change, Alastor! Don't you want to do something much more than rot away here?!”

Because he could be more than who he was, so, so much more. He could be more than Patient #1933. He could be more than just a twisted man with questionable tendencies and outlooks in life. More than a lunatic. A deranged madman, with a kind heart only she could see. He needed help, _actual_ help, not the torture this place provided. He had so much potential to be the sweet and kind gentleman she saw deep within him. He just needed time.

Time which he didn’t have, because of his pride, his rashness, his vexatious protectiveness of her, one she could not grasp.

“Oh, my dear Charlie, you blithering foolish girl. How is it that you could let such weakness grapple your heart for you.”

“Because I can’t bear to lose you!”

“And now, neither can I!”

The room fell silent, only the rhythmic tapping of other nurses’ heels in the corridor disrupting it. In the eye of the hurricane, they stared at each other, storms raging within their hearts.

“Because of you, it is with the curse of such love that cripples me into fear. My initial submission to my untimely end with no qualms… ruined! And all because I fear never seeing you ever again!”

He kept gazing, distressed. It was the first time she had seen him actually, genuinely fearful. Not because of his destiny, but of how another’s one influenced his. How he couldn’t let go of how their fates intertwined, welded together, indissoluble.

“Alastor…”

Her fingers rose and reached out to lightly graze against his cheeks which were trembling ever so slightly, and Alastor couldn’t help but notice how her touch, although quite cold against his skin, was soft and gentle, as though careful that she did not wish to break him under her contact. The sensation was one unknown, and so very alien to him. But the comfort he felt, was one of innocence. In this horrid place, she, her gentleness, was the only piece of sanity left.

“If, by some miracle, you were given a chance… I can promise you that I’ll be with you, every step of the way…”

She said no more. What more could she say to a doomed man, one who has thrown his life away so many years ago? She had no choice but accept the only fate which lay ahead, as much as it pained her. If only there was a way. If only there was a way for him to break free, from the chains of the asylum and from the chains of his own mind.

If only there was a way for her heart to stop hurting for him so.

But, she still dared to hope, and pray, for God to show his benevolence just this one time.

* * *

_They’ve moved up the schedule. Patient #1933’s lobotomy should be starting soon._

Tears blinded her vision and made the dim hallways look hazy and distorted, but still, she ran as quickly as her slender legs could carry her, the soles of her stained shoes slapping hard against the linoleum floors and bouncing off these bare walls as she quickened her pace into an all-out sprint, driven by a heart throbbing with grief and fear. 

They must have decided, the sooner they got rid of him, the better. He was dangerous. And now, with how he mauled one of the doctors, it was personal.

The door opened with a loud thud, the knob grabbed and pulled with great force. How she had hoped for a miracle, for him to find a way to survive. To escape. To _live_.

And it seemed like he did.

But she could never imagine that it would be like _this_. 

He was smart, as she had always considered him to be. He knew nobody would pay much mind to their screams - the screams were daily occurrences and no one would suspect a thing more than the patients getting up to their antics as usual.

They would be none the wiser of Patient #1933 having single-handedly taken down a whole room of doctors and nurses using the very tools meant to cut his head open in his onslaught, spilling their blood onto the dirty floor and staining the examination table that he was supposed to be on with splatters of rich crimson.

Charlie froze, looking around the room covered in scarlet, until her eyes met his.

“You told me… If by some miracle, I could manage to find a chance… That you will be with me, every step of the way…”

The serene smile on his face was a grotesque juxtaposition to the scene of horror that was painted all around him. It was an even eerier sight as Alastor held out a bloody hand, all waiting and desperate as it held out to her the unseen reminder of her promise. 

“Take me away from here, Charlie…”

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was written specially for the lovely Neco (@mulasaki_neco) for the Chalastor Trashbin Discord's Secret Santa event! I am loving the prompts and genres when I received her as my giftee and imaginations have got to get wild! Special shout-out to the amazing Frumpy (@frumpy_furby) for helping me out in so many ways to make sure this would become the perfect gift!
> 
> Merry Christmas to you, my darling Neco! And I hope you've enjoyed it! 
> 
> Wishing everyone else a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!


End file.
